"The door to infinity is somewhere in the room with you, right now."…Gina Rocca
“Whiskey River” has been a link on my sidebar for more than a decade now, the keeper of such quotes as the two above once approached in conversation, but while the knock on the door was answered, the personal identity of whomever was on the other end wasn’t revealed. The wish to remain anonymous, however, never interfered with my desire to return every now and then, his (or her) table always spread with an assortment of food. Who prepared it may sometimes give me pause, the “theology” shared perhaps clashing with my own; but seldom do I leave without a tidbit or two rolling around inside me, “shedding my skin” in these musings of my own being a condition that sounds familiar. Likewise, the idea of eternity never being beyond my touch is an admitted reality made clearer every day, the subject, though, at least for me, not just a matter of departure, but one defined by He who cannot be bound by temporal limits. Longevity may well account for at least some of my present proclivity toward probing the mystery of it all; but life, in truth, has always been a question mark I began pondering at an early age. People. Events. Me, the biggest piece of the puzzle. God was dismissed when my father died, my Navy dog tags, in fact, stamped “N O N E” in that space designated for “religion”. I still carry one of them on my keychain, a witness to a young man’s anger keeping him from Christ for more than a decade, it taking that long for me to admit my mess and find Him one Monday afternoon in my own living room. Molting, of course, is even yet a part of the process. Being “born-again” didn’t provide me with a sudden clarity about all things; but it did bring unto me an inner connection, One to walk with me through the fog……..